


Flight Hearted

by imaginary_golux



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Force-Sensitive Finn, M/M, Mutual Pining, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-26 22:22:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7592515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apparently, Finn learns, being Force-sensitive means you grow wings. (Being in love with both of his best friends probably doesn't have anything to do with the wings <i>or</i> the Force, but it doesn't help matters, either.)</p><p>Beta by my marvelous Best Beloved, Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Finn wakes up eight days after the destruction of Starkiller Base, to the news that Rey has gone off to find Luke Skywalker and the uncomfortable feeling that his entire back is on fire. The first, he sort of expects. The second - given that he’s been immersed in bacta long enough to heal the lightsaber wounds on his back - is rather more of a surprise.

Doctor Kalonia can’t find anything wrong with him, though she does manage to help him locate the pain more specifically: two long stripes of agony on either side of his spine, between his shoulderblades. Baffled, she gives him a topical analgesic and sends him away with strict orders to return if the ache becomes a more immediate pain. Finn has dealt with worse, honestly, and so he’s able to react with entirely appropriate enthusiasm when Poe shows him the room they’ll be sharing and then leads him to the mess hall and the _astonishing_ array of food available.

(It is, Poe claims, no more than a very basic mess hall assortment, but to Finn, who has spent his life eating protein rations and nutrient shakes, everything on the table is new and delightful - and Poe seems to take inordinate pleasure in bringing Finn a little bit of everything to try.)

After the meal, Poe brings Finn to a meeting room full of people Finn recognizes from the Enemy List that every Stormtrooper memorizes: Admiral Ackbar, Admiral Statura, Major Brance, Captain Cypress, Commodore Meta, Major Ematt, and at the head of the table, her brown-and-white wings draped comfortably over the back of her chair, General Leia Organa herself. There are two seats left, and Poe helps Finn into one before taking the other. The General raises an eyebrow at both of them.

“I was under the impression Finn was completely healed, Commander Dameron,” she observes.

“He is, ma’am,” Poe says easily. “Except his shoulders are giving him trouble, and Doc Kalonia can’t find anything wrong. He’s fit otherwise.”

Finn nods firmly. He’s done harder things than sit through what is almost certainly going to be a very polite interrogation while in far worse pain than this. But the General’s eyebrows rise almost to her hairline.

“His _shoulders_ ,” she says, and gives Finn a long, penetrating look. “Fascinating. I will wish to discuss that with you at a later time, Finn, though it is probably not an immediate concern - though do let me know if the pain changes at all, please.” Her lips twist in a wry smirk, expression briefly that of someone lost in memory. “For now, however, are you willing to tell us everything you can remember about the First Order?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Finn agrees immediately. “I will be _glad_ to do so.”

“Wonderful,” says the General, and sits back in her chair, wings fluttering briefly as she resettles them. “Then - Admiral Ackbar, I think you had a few questions prepared, so let us begin.”

Finn turns his attention to the famous admiral and prepares himself for a long day. And it _is_ a long day, one that ends with him frankly exhausted from hours of questioning, but he gets through it, in part because of Poe, who sits beside him with an unobtrusive hand on his lower back and refills his water glass whenever Finn’s throat gets hoarse and glares at anyone who dares to even _hint_ that they might think Finn is being less than completely forthcoming.

When the meeting is over - Finn suspects there will be several more, once the commanders of the Resistance have had a chance to look over the information he’s already given them and generate follow-up questions - Finn stays in his chair with his eyes closed until almost everyone else has left. The analgesics have worn off, and his back aches like he’s pulled every muscle in it. It’s...really quite unpleasant.

He opens his eyes when General Organa says, from very close by, “It’s like you’ve wrenched your entire back somehow, isn’t it?”

Finn blinks at her in confusion. “Yes, ma’am,” he admits.

She chuckles. “It’ll get worse before it gets better,” she tells him, sympathetically. “Right before they break through it’s like red-hot pokers, I’m afraid.”

“...Break through?” Finn asks, baffled. Beside him, Poe has gone _very_ still, hardly even breathing.

General Organa spreads her wings. They’re wider than Finn expected, a ten-foot span at least, patterned in gorgeous subtle stripes of brown and white, and with something about their shape that makes him think of predatory birds swooping down on unsuspecting rabbits. “Congratulations,” she says gently. “You’re Force-sensitive. Side effects include being hunted by Sith, getting splitting headaches every time the Dark Side does something particularly unpleasant, and growing wings.”

Finn stares. “I...really?”

“Really,” General Organa says. “I should have seen it sooner, to be honest. They take about a month to manifest from the time you first awaken as a sensitive, and the last couple of hours are kriffing awful. I’ll send what little information I have to Doctor Kalonia, and to your datapad once Dameron here gets you one.”

Finn boggles. “Wait - does that mean _Rey_ will be growing wings, too?”

“It does indeed,” General Organa says, nodding solemnly. “I warned her about it before she left, and my brother will have a better grasp of how to deal with it than I do; in fact, if they get back before yours break through, he might know how to help _you_ with the pain, too.” She shrugs and folds her wings back up, so that they look more like a cloak than anything else. “I think back when the Jedi were more than a single hermit out on a backwater planet they had ways of inducing the wings to emerge earlier and less painfully, but those ways, sadly, were lost with the Order itself.” She shrugs again. “So we’re stuck with painkillers and suffering through, I’m afraid. You’ll want to sleep without a shirt. They seem, from what little information I have, to be more likely to emerge at night.”

“Good to know,” Finn says, still boggled. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Thank me once they’ve broken through and you’re not in pain anymore,” she says wryly. “And, Dameron - run him down to the Quartermaster and tell them he’s going to need some modifications to the standard uniform. Trust me, there is _nothing_ so uncomfortable as trying to fit a shirt over your wings.”


	2. Chapter 2

Unfortunately, Rey does not come back to D’Qar in the next three weeks. She does send a message, via Chewbacca and the _Falcon_ , that she is well and has found Luke Skywalker, but the same message explains that Skywalker is reluctant to leave his quiet island refuge. Finn has every confidence that Rey will eventually wear Skywalker’s reluctance down - Rey being something of a force of nature - but in the meantime he misses his friend, and he would sort of like to have someone else around who is having to deal with the unpleasant sensation of wings beginning to emerge.

Thankfully, Poe is always willing to provide backrubs, which are kriffing _wonderful_ , and does not object to Finn sleeping shirtless in their shared room, the aching skin of his back somewhat soothed by the cool air. And he’s also willing to hold a mirror up so Finn can see his back without craning his neck too much, the long raised lines paralleling his spine that will be wings.

“I’d be jealous,” Poe tells him at one point, “if it didn’t hurt so much.”

Finn smiles at him. “If anybody’d asked if I wanted them, I think I’d’ve said no,” he admits. “They _do_ hurt, and I suspect they’re going to be a hassle once they’re grown. I’ll have to re-learn how to fight; my balance will be all off. And your jacket won’t fit anymore.”

Poe frowns. “Now that’s a damn shame,” he says thoughtfully. “Tell you what, let me see if I can’t get someone who can sew better than I can to do something about that.”

“Sure,” Finn agrees, and when Poe brings the jacket back a week later, the back has been modified into what Poe, laughing, calls a halter top, with a wide gap for Finn’s eventual wings.

The next few weeks are an odd sort of limbo for Finn. He learns a lot - BB-8 starts teaching him Binary, and Snap shows him how to scramble eggs and make toast, and Finn learns an awful lot about the inside of an X-Wing from tagging along with Poe while he fixes his ship - and he spends hours every day answering questions about the First Order, which is very useful, but he is constantly aware that he and everyone around him are _waiting_ : for Rey to come back, for Finn’s wings to grow, for the First Order to do something. It’s oddly uncomfortable, and not just because his back hurts more every day.

As it turns out, Finn’s wings come in before Rey can convince Skywalker to cooperate _or_ the First Order can decide to do anything else unpleasant.

Finn wakes up at what Poe likes to call ‘oh-dark-hundred’ one morning almost exactly a month after the day he and a certain gorgeous pilot made their daring escape from the _Finalizer_ , feeling like the skin of his back has just been set afire. Poe wakes up moments later, because Finn can’t quite keep the soft sounds of distress behind his teeth, and flicks the lights on; BB-8 takes one scan of the room and goes rolling out the door with a blooping comment that Finn only catches part of: ‘Doctor K.’ Good idea, Finn thinks, with what little brain he has that isn’t busy being consumed with agony. Poe goes to his knees beside Finn’s bunk and presses something into Finn’s hand: a little strip of thick leather, left over from the jacket’s redesign. Finn sticks it between his teeth and lets it muffle his quiet whimpering. _Force_ , but even the anti-interrogation training didn’t hurt this much!

Doctor Kalonia and the General come hurrying in behind a steadily beeping BB-8 a few minutes later - Finn, clinging to Poe’s hand and concentrating on _not screaming_ , notices them but can’t quite manage to greet them - and the doctor steps quickly to the side of Finn’s bunk and sprays something over his bare back that drops the pain back down to a _far_ more manageable level. Finn sighs in relief and loosens his fingers on Poe’s hand, though he doesn’t let go - couldn’t, given how hard _Poe_ is holding on to _him_. He does manage to pry the now _very_ dented leather out from between his teeth, though.

“Thank you, Doctor,” he says, trying hard to put all his gratitude into the simple words. “Good morning, General. I’d get up, but -”

“But if that painkiller wears off you’d be back on the floor in seconds,” General Organa said briskly. “In any case, I’m not really here in my capacity as General - I’m here because I’m the only other person on base who’s both been through what you’re going through _and_ seen someone else deal with it.” She doesn’t clarify _who_ , and Finn suspects that’s out of kindness to Poe more than anything: presumably the General was there when her _son_ sprouted his great black wings. “And in that capacity,” she adds, “I have to say that it certainly looks like you’re very nearly done with the process, Finn. Another hour, perhaps two - and Doctor Kalonia has enough of that spray to keep dosing you until then, too.”

“ _Thank_ you,” Finn says again.

“Just tell me as soon as you think you’re going to need it,” Doctor Kalonia says easily. “In the meantime, I have reports to read, so if you don’t mind…” She takes the only chair in the room and pulls out a datapad. Finn can’t help grinning a little. His suspicions that Doctor Kalonia never actually _sleeps_ are not precisely being refuted.

The General huffs a laugh and steals a spare pillow off of Poe’s bunk, then folds herself down onto the floor beside Poe. “Can you play sabacc one-handed, or shall I play solitaire?” she inquires, producing a deck of cards from a pocket, and Poe grins at her.

“I can play sabacc _blindfolded_ , ma’am,” he says cheerfully, and she raises an eyebrow at him.

“Perhaps we should try that,” she says mildly, as BB-8 bloops laughter, and Finn spends the next ninety minutes watching Poe, a spare scarf tied loosely around his eyes, lose _spectacularly_ at sabacc to a gleefully grinning General Organa. Finn rather suspects the whole scene has been staged purely to distract him from his own aching back, and he’s very, _very_ grateful to them both.

*

The actual emergence of Finn’s wings is heralded by a wave of pain so sharp it breaks through even the very strong painkillers Doctor Kalonia has been spraying him with, and Finn bites his own arm hard enough to draw blood so as not to scream with it; there’s blood, too, from the splitting of his skin as the wings emerge into the open air.

But then, after seconds which feel far too much like hours, the pain is gone as though it had never been. Finn’s back heals around the new wings as though it is the most natural thing in the world, and Finn blinks back over his own shoulder as Doctor Kalonia fusses over his arm and stares in blank, delighted astonishment at the wide span of -

“Kriff, Finn, those are _beautiful_ ,” Poe breathes. And they are. They’re a deep, iridescent blue, almost the color of oceans, and they feel - they feel -

They feel _right_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finn's wings are about the same color as the feathers on a peacock's neck, that deep iridescent blue.


	3. Chapter 3

Three days after Finn’s wings emerge, the entire D’Qar base turns out to welcome the _Millennium Falcon_ back from Ahch-To, with Luke Skywalker himself aboard. Finn himself is in the first rank of greeters, with Poe beside him; Finn hasn’t quite gotten the hang of his new appendages yet, and his left wing is flared out a little behind Poe like a sort of protective barrier. Poe has thankfully been very understanding about the way Finn’s new wings behave around him, though the other pilots have started teasing Poe about his ‘new blue cape’.

When Rey emerges from the ship, Finn can’t help grinning: she, too, has new wings, half-flared with excitement as she comes down the ramp, intricately patterned in black and brown and white, sharply angled like a desert falcon’s. They suit her beautifully. The bearded, solemn man behind her who must be Luke Skywalker wears his grey wings like a cape, and Finn is rather startled by his appearance: though Finn knows that Skywalker and the General are twins, the last Jedi seems years, even _decades_ older than his sister. He almost radiates weariness.

The General steps forward to meet her brother, and Rey comes half-dancing across the landing field and throws her arms around Finn. “You’ve got them too!” she cries in delight.

Finn holds on to her hard, glories in the return of his second-ever friend. “Yeah,” he agrees. “We should go flying together!”

“Oh _Force_ , yes,” Rey agrees, and then turns and hugs Poe, who looks very startled. “Thank you for looking after Finn!”

“It was my pleasure,” Poe tells her, a little awkwardly.

“So this means you’ll be studying with me, right?” Rey asks Finn, who shrugs.

“I guess so - unless I can convince the General to take me on,” he says. “I mean, lightsabers are fun and all - but kriff, you should see her. She’s got everything all lined up in her head, and she knows _everyone’s_ name, and she’s just...on top of everything. I want to grow up to be her.”

“That would involve getting a _lot_ shorter,” Rey points out, grinning.

“But also _vastly_ more intimidating,” Finn points out, and Poe puts a hand over his face and laughs sort of helplessly for a while.

*

That afternoon, Finn and Rey sneak away from the welcome-back party - which is really centered on Skywalker, who looks sort of overwhelmed by the whole thing - and go flying. It’s easier than Finn expected, launching himself into the sky on brand-new wings; he’d expected it to be scary and difficult and require a lot of concentration, but he and Rey just find a high point and spread their wings and instinct takes over. Rey shoots up into the sky with a whoop of sheer glee, and Finn follows her, wings catching the air like he’s done it a million times before, swoops around and above her and laughs aloud as she turns on a wingtip to arc over him. They dance in the air together, diving and recovering, learning to do barrel-rolls and fancy swoops, flying wingtip-to-wingtip for brief, precious moments and then spiraling away from each other to meet again, curvetting through the air with not a moment’s fear of falling.

They wheel above D’Qar base, and Finn glances down to see a spot of orange in an unexpected place, swoops down to find that Poe is standing on the roof near where Rey and Finn launched themselves into the air, an expression of helpless longing on his face. Finn glances over at Rey, who has come sweeping down beside him, and she nods at him; they land, in perfect unison, on either side of Poe.

“Kriff, you guys are gorgeous up there,” Poe says hoarsely.

“D’you want to come up with us?” Finn asks. He’s pretty sure they can manage it, him and Rey together.

“...Could I?” says Poe, eyes wide, and Finn takes hold of one of the ejection straps of Poe’s flight harness as Rey grabs the other, and they launch themselves into the air again to the sound of BB-8’s disapproving squeaks, go soaring low and easy over the base, their wingtips brushing and Poe held securely between them. Poe yelps in shock and then again in glee, spreads his arms and laughs aloud.

They’re careful not to go too high, not to turn too sharply - _Poe_ has no wings to catch himself, in the unlikely event that they should drop him - but Finn and Rey manage to curve and swoop over every inch of D’Qar base, to skim the nearby treetops closely enough that Poe actually reaches out and plucks a flower, to lean into a dive just steep enough that Poe bursts again into delighted, glorious laughter. And then they head back to anxious BB-8, put Poe back down on his own two feet and land beside him, and Poe reels them both into an enthusiastic embrace.

“Kriffing hell, that was _wonderful_!” he says, and Rey giggles.

“We can do it again,” she promises. “As many times as you like. That was fun!”

BB-8 bloops, and Poe nods. “Yeah, next time maybe a better safety harness,” he tells the little droid. “But hey - it worked! And I got to _fly_! Damn, that was awesome!” He tucks the flower behind his ear, a bright spot of color against his dark hair, and grins at them all.

Finn looks at Rey, and Rey looks at Finn, and there’s that perfect moment of communication again, and saying very nearly the same thing: _Can we? Dare we? Can we bring him with us, can we keep him, can we have this, both of us together?_

And the answer, just as clear again: _Yes. Yes. Yes._

*

They get back to the party before anyone else misses them - which honestly has more to do with the amount of alcohol being consumed than any particular stealth on their part - and Finn and Rey retreat to a corner, both rather uncomfortable with the sheer number of _people_ in the room, while Poe goes and fetches them both tall glasses of something blue and bubbling, and then stands between them, their wings arching possessively behind him, and points the various members of the Resistance out to a curious Rey.

Finn is content to stand just quietly and drink his blue bubbly thing and listen to Rey ask Poe questions about the various Resistance members drinking and dancing and playing ridiculous party games all around them, and BB-8 bloop sarcastic commentary - Finn learned how to be sarcastic in Binary almost before he mastered basic greetings - and bask in the presence of his two very best friends in all the galaxy.

Okay, three, counting BB-8, but two best _human_ friends.

And maybe, someday - someday very soon - they will be something more.


	4. Chapter 4

Wings, Finn and Rey discover pretty quickly, require a lot of care; having mussed feathers is actually kind of uncomfortable. It is perfectly _possible_ to do all the necessary preening oneself, using fingers and the Force to smooth one’s feathers into place, but it’s much, _much_ nicer to have help. So it only takes about a day for Finn and Rey to decide to spend an hour or so every evening sitting in a quiet, out-of-the-way spot and helping each other put their feathers in order.

It’s _really_ pleasant. Having someone stroke his wings feels like the best sort of backrub ever, and Finn can’t help making little happy noises as Rey’s clever fingers coax his feathers into lying flat. And when they both turn around so that Finn can get to _Rey’s_ wings, she sags under his hands with her eyes half-closed and almost purrs with pleasure. Her feathers are soft under his hands, with an odd half-felt prickle to them that Finn suspects is the Force, and putting them in order is oddly soothing.

And preening each other in private like this gives them an opportunity to _talk_ , as well.

They discuss training, mostly: they are both learning the lightsaber under Skywalker’s tutelage, but the General was kind enough to agree to teach Finn when he got the courage up to ask her, and so Rey is the only one getting the full Jedi lesson plan. She tells Finn about it in the evenings, describing the meditation techniques that let her center herself most fully, giving her the best access to the Force as it moves through the world. She’s deeply dubious about some of the Jedi teachings - the ones about attachment, especially - but she’s willing to listen for now. Finn, though, shakes his head when she tells him about them.

“Maybe that worked for Jedi who were raised to it from birth and maybe it didn’t, but it sure as hell won’t work for _us_ ,” he tells her, smoothing a hand down her left wing and turning his attention to the right. “Yeah, we fight _better_ \- in the moment - when we don’t let our emotions get the better of us, that’s true enough, and so it’s good we’re both learning to keep our emotions under control in battle; but we fight _because_ we care about people. You know perfectly well I only went to Starkiller because you were there, and that was the _only_ thing that could have kept me from just kriffing _running_. And this isn’t your fight, or wasn’t when you met BB-8; you joined it because you cared about a lost droid. Maybe Poe can fight for the honor of the Resistance, but you and me, we need _people_ to fight for.”

“I think you’re right,” Rey agrees, stretching out contentedly under his hands. “Master Luke says emotion could lead me to the Dark Side - but surely _ignoring_ my emotions would do the same thing. No. I’m not going to stop caring about you just because some ancient code says I should. The Jedi are all _dead_ , except for Master Luke, and - well - the Knights of Ren apparently aren’t Sith. So if the Jedi fight Sith and I’m going to be fighting Knights of Ren, then I must not be a Jedi.”

“...There’s something wrong with your logic,” Finn laughs. “But as long as you won’t be going off to be a hermit because Jedi have to be beings of pure emotionless Force, I’m happy.”

“I’ve been alone long enough already,” Rey tells him softly. “I’m not going to do _that_ again if I can help it, even if it _is_ the traditional Jedi way.”

*

The other thing they talk about, inevitably, is Poe Dameron. He has taken it upon himself to make sure they both adjust to the Resistance as smoothly as possible, and they are both immensely grateful for his patience in explaining such things as private showers (“They’re private?” Finn had marveled; “They’re _water_?” Rey had asked incredulously); mess hall food (“There’s more than one _kind_?” and “Wait, so I don’t have to pay for any of this?”); sleeping accommodations (“I only have to share with _one_ person?” and “I really don’t want to share with anyone else, please.”); medical facilities (“I was in a coma _how long_ and I wasn’t decommissioned?” and “Wait, there are _vaccines_ for that?”); and the quartermaster’s office (“Oh wow, your uniforms are actually _comfortable_ ,” and “You mean I don’t have to sew it myself?”).

So they’re in Poe’s debt, even if he doesn’t see it that way, because without his help, adjusting to the Resistance would have been a _lot_ harder for both of them. He even managed to talk the General into letting him take Rey on a quick jaunt back to Jakku to pick up the few personal possessions she still wanted from her makeshift former home, which had - miraculously - not been looted during her absence.

But there’s this, too: taking him flying is one of the great pleasures they’ve discovered so far, his joy infectious as they swoop low over the base or soar over the nearby forests. Listening to him sing is an unexpected delight. Rey likes to work with him on _Black One_ or the _Millennium Falcon_ , and it’s not uncommon for them to show up for dinner with broad grins shining in faces liberally daubed with engine grease; Finn likes to hear him talk about his childhood, about the way people in the wider universe live, and also discuss small-group tactics with him. Poe may work with pilots, not infantry, but it’s still useful to compare the way the Resistance and the First Order treat their squad leaders and their front-line warriors. They both like to spar with him as with each other, re-learning how to fight with the new weight of their wings to deal with, laughing and applauding each other at a particularly clever strike or counter.

And he’s been very patient with their wings’ uncontrollable urges to arch around his back protectively anytime either Finn or Rey is beside him.

Also he’s _unfairly_ pretty, whether flushed and beaming from a flight or sleepy-eyed and contented as he sings or sweating and intent as he dances across the sparring mat, grease-stained and shirtless after a long afternoon buried in _Black One’s_ innards or tidy and formal in his official uniform or lounging smugly against his ship in his startling bright orange flightsuit. It’s...mildly distressing. And _very_ distracting, especially during meditation practice.

None of that prevents them, the day Poe stumbles upon their private little corner, from inviting him to join them. Poe is clever and good with his hands; it only takes him a little while to get quite good at setting their feathers in order, and Finn and Rey discover that the only thing nicer than _one_ person preening their feathers gently and soothingly into place is _two_ people doing it at the same time.

And since Poe hasn’t got any feathers to tend, Finn talks Rey into teaching him - using her hair as a sample - into how to brush and braid hair, and then offers to brush Poe’s the next evening.

It turns out that Poe Dameron turns into a little happy puddle of contented pilot when someone brushes his hair, leaning back against Finn’s knees with his eyes half-closed and humming softly with pleasure. Finn finds his wings half-spreading involuntarily so they can curve around him and Poe both, forming a shield against the outer world. Rey, behind him, drapes herself over his back and looks down over his shoulder, her own wings nearly blocking out the light. It’s oddly comfortable, and more than a little addictive.

It becomes a habit pretty much immediately.


	5. Chapter 5

Sometimes, when they’re preening each other, one or two feathers will come loose from Finn or Rey’s wings; Rey collects them, tucking them away with a thoughtful look on her face, and a few weeks after Poe starts joining them for their quiet evenings of preening and talking, she shows Finn what she’s made: a hair ornament of feathers and wire, understated (except for the bright gleam of Finn’s iridescent feathers) and astonishingly lovely.

“For Poe,” she explains. “To show he’s ours.”

Finn runs a finger over the longest feather in the ornament, one of Rey’s. “Yes,” he says. “Yes, that...that’s good. It’ll look good on him, if he does wear it.”

Poe, when they give it to him, goes very pink and cradles it in his hand like a priceless treasure. “It’s _gorgeous_ , you guys,” he says hoarsely. “Help me put it in?”

Finn fastens it into Poe’s hair so it will hang behind his ear, gleaming against black hair and tanned skin. It looks just as good as Finn had suspected it would. It looks like a _claim_ , like proof that Poe is _theirs_ , his and Rey’s to keep, and from the avid look on Rey’s face, Finn suspects she’s thinking the same thing.

“I made - others,” Rey says, holding out two more hair ornaments, one made only of a pair of Finn’s feathers, the other from a pair of Rey’s. “One for me and one for you, Finn.”

Finn doesn’t have quite enough hair to put an ornament in, so after a moment’s thought he clips the one made of Rey’s feathers to the pocket of the jacket, the wire binding the feathers together chiming gently as they move in the breeze. Rey clips the one made of Finn’s feathers into her hair and shakes her head to make it sway and gleam. Finn’s bright feathers look good against her hair, against Poe’s hair - look _right_. Finn brushes his fingers against the ornament on his jacket and grins. Now they’re all marked as each other’s.

At dinner that night Poe gets a lot of teasing from the other pilots about his new decoration, but Finn can hear the admiration and faint envy behind the teasing words: all the other pilots know what those feathers mean, gleaming against Poe’s dark hair, know that Finn and Rey have made their claim public, and they approve.

So Finn assumes that Poe _must_ know, now, exactly how Rey and Finn feel about him. It’s not as though they’re handing out feather ornaments to everyone, after all - though Finn does, shyly, offer a single wire-bound feather to Leia, who tucks it into her elaborate braid and claps Finn on the shoulder, and Rey gives one of hers to Luke, and then pretends not to notice that he wears it behind his ear at all times, touching it occasionally with a sort of half-wistful, half-hopeful expression. But besides their teachers and Poe and each other, no one else gets to wear Finn and Rey’s feathers, and Poe’s ornament is so _clearly_ more elaborate, more carefully made than the single feathers which Leia and Luke wear that he _must_ , surely, understand that he means more to them than anyone else in the galaxy.

...Apparently not so much, because Poe does keep coming to find them in the evenings, helps preen their feathers and sits contentedly as Finn brushes his hair, puts up with their wings arching protectively around him whenever they stand near him, comes flying with them whenever he can find the time - his new flight harness clips on to straps around Finn and Rey’s chests, and keeps him secured even when they do particularly elaborate acrobatics, which make him whoop and laugh with glee - and wears their feathers in his hair proudly, and does _nothing_ to suggest that he understands what they mean.

It’s really quite frustrating. Poe is Finn’s best friend, coequal with Rey, and Finn _knows_ Poe is clever and daring and better at understanding nonverbal cues than Finn will ever be. Poe is also, it is quite clear to both Finn and Rey and also to Luke and Leia and pretty much everyone else on base, entirely in love with both Rey and Finn. It’s clear in the way he looks at them when he thinks they can’t see, in the way he leans into the protective arch of their wings, in the way he smiles when they slide onto the bench next to him in the mess hall and the way he listens avidly to their descriptions of training and the way he is always willing to tell them stories or teach them songs or just spend time with them - and everyone on base _except_ Poe can pretty obviously tell that Finn and Rey are in love with _Poe_. Leia has even mentioned it to Finn, pausing between meetings to say, mildly, “Try not to break my best pilot, please; also, you and Rey have _very_ good taste in men.”

So everyone can tell how much Rey and Finn adore Poe - except, apparently and inexplicably, Poe.

It’s not as though the only thing Finn and Rey have to do is pine over Poe ‘Inexplicably Oblivious’ Dameron. They’ve still got training, which is actually fun in an exhausting sort of way - they’re learning to use their wings in combat now, to strike with them - hard enough to break bones, it turns out, hard enough to incapacitate an enemy - and to use them to gain that little extra bit of momentum that can be so important in a fight. Finn is learning from Leia how to keep the entire shape of the war in his head, how to try to think two jumps ahead of the enemy, and Rey is learning from Luke how to read the Force, how to breathe with it, and they are both learning to meditate properly, to center themselves and let the Force flow through and around them and bring them the knowledge and calm they need to control their powers.

So there are plenty of distractions to be had. And it _is_ a war, and one or more of them is often off fighting it - and watching Poe head out in _Black One_ to go be shot at is never less than terrifying, watching Rey take the _Millennium Falcon_ out to face her foes is never anything but heart-stoppingly frightening - but wars come with a lot of down-time, and there’s entirely too much of that, too many hours to wonder what it’s going to take to make Poe Dameron realize how very besotted with him Rey and Finn are.

Rey and Finn pour their frustrations into flying. Each day that goes by without Poe catching on, despite _all_ the hints and outright statements they can make (and how can you misunderstand something like, “We really like you, Poe” anyway?), they fly higher and faster and more elaborately.

And then one day - one glorious day - they come down after nearly three hours in the air, hours in which they whirled and swooped and danced with each other like there was nothing else in the wide world but the wind beneath their wings and the glory of flight, and Poe, who has been watching them, says wryly, “Wow, that was _some_ mating display you guys just put on.”

Finn and Rey glance at each other. Finn says, slowly, “Yes. Yes it was.”

And Rey adds, “Did it work?”

Poe stares at them for a long, long moment. He is beautiful, as he is always beautiful, with their feathers adorning his hair and a crooked smile on his lovely mouth and his eyes wide and dark and glorious, and Finn’s heart hurts for wanting him.

And then Poe says, sounding like he’s just been given an absolutely wonderful gift, “Yes. Yes, it did.”


	6. Chapter 6

Rey gets to Poe first - stoops on him swift and sure as a desert falcon, wings half-spread, kisses him fierce and hungry. Finn wraps his arms and wings around both of them, waits until Rey releases a rather dazed-looking Poe and leans over to claim his own kiss, slower and sweeter than Rey’s but no less hungry. Poe looks ever more dazed when Finn pulls away, eyes half-closed and cheeks flushed pink.

“So,” Poe says after a moment, “how long have I been missing this?”

“A while,” Finn says, smiling helplessly.

“Too long,” Rey adds.

“Does kind of explain all the teasing,” Poe says thoughtfully, blinking at them. Finn thinks that it looks _right_ for Poe to be surrounded by their wings, iridescent blue and patterned brown and white a perfect backdrop for Poe’s bright smile. “And here I thought Jess had just decided to be snippy for no particular reason.”

“You really didn’t know?” Finn asks, baffled. “It’s not like we were subtle.”

Poe laughs. “I was - overcompensating,” he says, and Finn and Rey glance at each other, share a look of confusion. “Figured if I wanted you two so much, I must be misreading you, just seeing what I wanted to see, so I thought - I thought you couldn’t really be as into me as I _hoped_ you were. If you follow.”

It’s so very _Poe_ , and so very silly, that Finn can’t help laughing at him. Rey shakes her head, smiling and exasperated.

“We really _are_ that into you,” she informs Poe tartly. “You’re smart and funny and good with ships and you sing nicely and we _like_ you. Got it?”

“Got it,” Poe tells her, grinning, and leans in for another kiss. Finn watches hungrily: they’re beautiful, his Rey and his Poe, and even more beautiful together, here in the circle of Finn’s broad wings.

They all stand there beaming at each other for a while, and then Finn ducks his head and sniffs at himself and says, “Hate to say it, but I think I need a shower.”

“Same,” says Rey, wrinkling her nose. “Meet you guys in your room in, say, twenty minutes?”

“Sure,” Finn says, folds his wings up so they can walk down into D’Qar’s crowded corridors. He does clasp Poe’s hand in his, but that’s scarcely unusual; what’s more unusual are the brief kisses Rey gives both of them before trotting off to her own room and its tiny, private shower.

Rey shows up, hair still damp, as Finn is just finishing drying off, and they settle down in a line, Rey in front of Finn on the floor and Poe on the edge of the bed, so that Finn can put Rey’s wings in order and Poe can do the same for Finn. And when Rey and Finn’s wings are tidied, their feathers lying smooth again, they scramble up onto the bed on either side of Poe and do their level best to kiss him senseless. It’s honestly quite satisfying to see confident, flippant Poe Dameron sprawled out and limp with pleasure between them in the dim light between their half-spread wings. Finn would be very happy to see that again regularly. Maybe with fewer clothes next time.

At dinner that night, Jess Pava looks at the three of them - Poe in the middle, his left hand in Rey’s and his right hand in Finn’s, their wings arching behind him - and says, dryly, “Finally get your head out of your ass, Dameron?”

Poe blushes, but he gives her a cocky grin. “Do you _really_ want to talk about my ass, Pava?”

“Augh, no,” says Jess, flailing her hands a little desperately.

Finn and Rey exchange a look behind Poe’s head. Rey rolls her eyes. Finn grins. “It is a nice ass,” he points out, and Rey giggles delightedly. Poe goes pinker. Pava puts her head in her hands and just _sighs_.

*

They don’t have sex that night, by common consent, but they do push the two bunks in Finn and Poe’s room together, pad the gap with blankets and curl up with Poe in the middle, Finn and Rey’s wings like blankets across them all. It’s _right_ , in the inexplicable bone-deep way so many Force-affiliated things are, to have his lovers asleep beneath his wings, to know that he is keeping them warm and safe. Finn can’t remember the last time he slept so well and woke so happy. Maybe never.

In the morning, Finn and Rey wake well before Poe - he is _not_ a morning person - and lie still, watching Poe breathe and sending thoughts flickering across the Force-bond they share, the one they forged all unknowingly in their first few days after Rey got back, which lets them fly in perfect unison and sometimes, if they have the concentration, speak - though this morning it is not really so much words as feelings that they send to each other through the Force and their clasped hands on Poe’s chest: joy, and wonder, and desire.

And then Poe yawns, and blinks sleepily up at both of them, and says, “So I’m never going to need a blanket again, am I, loves?”

Finn puts his head down on Poe’s shoulder and laughs helplessly for a while while Rey kisses Poe silent. Finally he gets himself mostly under control and raises his head to claim his own good-morning kiss.

“No, you won’t,” he tells Poe softly. “We’ll keep you warm.”

Poe grins. “Well, good,” he says cheerfully. “Save me some money - feather duvets are _awfully_ expensive, you know.”

“Dear Force,” Rey says, muffled by Poe’s shoulder, “Less than a full minute from awake to bad jokes.”

“Not actually my best time,” Poe tells her, still grinning. “Ask Pava, but I think I managed awake-to-bad-joke in about ten seconds once on a mission. She nearly strangled me.” Rey makes a muffled, slightly despairing sound. Finn tries not to laugh. “If it helps,” Poe adds, “you guys have a way to shut me up that Pava never had.”

Finn blinks down at him for a moment, then laughs and kisses him again. Yep, that _does_ work.

“So what you’re saying is we just need to kiss you a lot,” Rey says, sounding smug and pleased. “I think we can work with that.”

“And hey,” Finn says, rather smug himself with the blissed-out look on Poe’s face, the bitten red of Poe’s lips. “We’re inventive. I bet we can come up with _lots_ of other ways to shut him up.”

“Mmmm, yeah,” Rey says, sounding delighted at the very idea, and Poe laughs and wraps his arms around them.

“I’m gonna die of Jedi sex,” he says, trying to sound mournful and missing by a parsec. “But hey - what a way to go.”

“You won’t die,” Rey objects. “We’ll keep you safe.”

“Yeah,” Poe says, softly, smiling up at them both, sheltered beneath his lovers’ wings. “Yeah, I know you will.”

Finn kisses him again for that.

*

They are _very_ late to breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's all for Flight Hearted! I'll have some short fics going up next week, but the week after - the 14th through the 22nd of August - I won't be posting anything at all. (Real life, what can you do.)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this silly fluff of mine! Thank you all for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> This will update Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday for the next two weeks.
> 
> Do drop by imaginarygolux.tumblr.com and say hi!


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